


Fierce Journey

by Mssilverwoods



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mssilverwoods/pseuds/Mssilverwoods
Summary: 'It’s no good. Sleep is elusive. Louisa lies in bed willing the house to consume them into its walls. That it might keep them safe, just as she wishes Spiro’s taxi would magic them away like a carpet ride. She is terrified of how she will survive. The fizz in her belly from kissing this gorgeous man has been replaced by a cold, painful lump of sickly fear.'





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure where this is going! I have watched The End right to the end. I stopped at the beach scene as it was so sad and wished I had not. I saw hope for a reunion even if some of the press reviews were mixed. Louisa saying 'love each other a bit more', Spiro's toast to the 'future' and the personal matter - nudge nudge, they SO went to heaven! So this is mine take on it. Still writing it, about 4 chapters maybe, not sure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is her happiness? How can it be that he thinks she can make her family happy without him?

It’s no good. Sleep is elusive. Louisa lies in bed willing the house to consume them into its walls. That it might keep them safe, just as she wishes Spiro’s taxi would magic them away like a carpet ride. She is terrified of how she will survive. The fizz in her belly from kissing this gorgeous man has been replaced by a cold, painful lump of sickly fear. 

How will Spiro will cope? His wife doesn’t want him back, she knows that much from the gossip and has apparently taken in a new man. He is adamant he won't go back either. He’s sleeping on the beach for God’s sake in his bloody taxi. Heaving sobs come up from deep inside, bone juddering grief and she allows herself the indulgence until she reminds herself that she told Spiro she would see him after the play. That was before Basil. Before Larry told them time was running out. Before the world hit them. Louisa though that she and Spiro had forever, she knows he did too.

Where is her happiness? How can it be that he thinks she can make her family happy without him? 

Louisa dries her eyes, grabs a blanket from her bed and slips quickly down the stairs, into the pitch black night. She isn’t at all surprised to see Spiro in his taxi by the door. His eyes tells her what is on his mind, this is no time for discussion. She really doesn’t need to tell him to drive but she does, giving him permission to take her away, deep into the night. Her breath hitches as he speeds the car away.

It’s far from the first time that they have lain together. Two doors and a flight of stairs wasn’t going to stop them. Nobody would believe them if they expressed innocence and virtue, however many times she told them his room was separate to hers. It was easy to forget she had her own room after he promised to show her just how cooking was like making love. She felt ridiculously happy and utterly in love. 

This night is different. All gentleness is forgotten. Spiro has driven them only a short distance away. He too senses the passing of the hours. His hands are barely off the steering wheel before she’s in his arms and he is invading her mouth, pushing and pulling at their clothes. They crash in a tangle to the blanket, fighting the impending parting by binding together every thread of love, born from years of longing.

Spiro has seen so many layers of her in such a short time. Mother, friend, victor, victim and lover. She has seen him at his lowest and highest, the multitude of emotions in between. Their reading of each others minds overcomes language and culture. 

This connection makes her wanton and brave. 

When she crept into his attic room, she wrapped herself around him, sliding under sheets in silence, her body half hidden from his view, fingers and mouths exploring each other. On this beach she is consumed by him and this island. She is vocal, shouting his name as she rides high above him letting him see her in the white moonlight, imprinting herself on his mind so they never forget each other. She studies him, exploring every sinew, the way he stands, and what he likes, openly telling him want she wants him to do.

Hours later all is taken and given. Lying spent and naked in his arms, she’s certain there isn’t any part of her body or his that hasn’t been touched. They have tasted and cherished each other, weaved themselves so tight to one another. 

In the morning she leaves before dawn, there is the last packing to do, children to wash and organise and the bloody play, though she is grateful to Larry for distracting everyone she cannot think how awful it would have been without him here. Spiro drives back to the beach and starts to pack his few belongings, cleaning up ready to take the taxi up to the villa. He can’t bear to be apart from her any longer. He hears the distant sound of gunfire from Albania. They’ve been fighting over there for so long, it’s just a distant noise like crackers but today he’s mesmerised by the sea unaware that Louisa is back to claim him first, running across the sand to tell him she loves him as if last night wasn’t enough, which it isn’t.

In the heady moments after he’s made love to her again, Spiro whispers that she owns his soul and Louisa tells him he can claim it back when this bloody mess is over. He will find them bed, it’s the first thing he’ll get for her. He vows to find her and she promises to return, words that had never dared to be said before for they sounded foolish and naive, now they sound real. 

‘I have thought of every way we could be together,’ Spiro rests his head on top of hers as she lays in his lap. ‘I talked to the British consulates office but I can’t leave with my children, it’s not safe and I can’t take them from my former wife. I know she did that to me once but the world was safer then.’

‘I’m sorry I asked you to.' Louisa says softly, 'I could not be parted from mine and they are older than yours. We’re meant to be adults and protectors.’

‘Adults in love are allowed to be demanding,’ Spiro smiles. ‘I could keep you hidden, but it would be impossible to contain your children. And I could not completely promise you would be safe. This is the most important thing to me, that you are safe.’

‘What will you do?’ She’s almost to nervous to ask, ‘be gentle or I’ll worry.’

‘I have served with Alex at the hospital and drove ambulances, I will do the same again. I have to keep myself alive and well so we can live the rest of our lives together.’ Spiro smiles, ‘Wars don’t last forever. We will.’

‘You sound so certain,’ Louisa says, ‘can you bottle it so I can take it with me?’

‘I’ll write for as long as I can instead, I promise.’ Spiro kisses the top of her head and laughs, ‘Last night and this morning we were in mourning, now we are planning.’

‘If the rest of the bastards in the world can, so can we. I didn’t wait for you for four years to have them pull us apart, it’s a matter of principle, love and pride.’ Louisa says this to Albania as if she hopes someone would hear her.

‘You’re turning more Greek everyday,’ Spiro muses.

‘It’s all that Greek inside me.’ Louisa turns in his lap with a giggle as he rolls his eyes.

‘You’d hate Bournemouth,’ Louisa runs her hands down his chest. ‘If Bournemouth was sex, it would be laid in bed like a corpse with her nightie done up to the neck.’ 

‘I definitely do not like Bournemouth.’ Spiro laughs,’ I prefer making love with Louisa because she doesn’t wear a nightie.’

Louisa moans as his hands creep lower down her body. Reluctantly she holds them still and looks at him. ‘Do you really want us to have a future, Spiro?’

He looks astonished as if she has grown two heads, ‘Yes of course. I wish to marry you which is another reason I must stay to sort out papers. If you’d want me.’

‘Spiro?’ Louisa looks aghast,’But how? It’s difficult in England…’

‘I will find a way.’ Spiro teases, ‘Okays, I will do my best.’

At this she giggles with delight and then tears shine in her eyes, ‘It’s a shoddy proposal and we cannot tell the children that you had your hands between my legs when you asked, but I accept in the hope you find a way.’

‘Good because I wasn’t going to be happy with no.’ He growls as she wraps her legs around him and draws him inside her.

In the morning, they stand side by side at the harbour, tearful. Spiro tells her that their tomorrow will arrive. That the sooner she speeds home, the quicker they can live their lives together in peacetime. It will come he says fiercely and she kisses him with love and determination. Through her tears she tells him she has hope and it’s true. He feels it too.

It’s this fierceness that gets Louisa onto the ferry, through Europe and back to a wet, drab England. It gets her through the hours. Then the days, which turn to months and years. It compels her to throw herself into war work once her children are settled. Larry is away, she’s certain spying but doesn’t ask. He knows too much not to be and her youngest three are seemingly in very little need of her. Even Roger doesn’t need walks. He is settled with Gerry, Pru and Geoffrey in their safe, sleepy village whilst her youngest who is not so young does his war work on a local farm.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiro wants to hug her and hate her for simply caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the most cheerful chapter but I have been reading accounts of civilian life on mainland Greece and I wanted to share that here but with hope

Someone is hammering Spiro’s head. Or using it as target practice. 

Cracking open one eye, he immediately closes it again as the light pierces through his skull and seems to cause uncontrollable pain in his neck. 

The banging hasn’t stopped and now someone is shouting at him. 

“Get up for the love of God!’ If it’s not Louisa, and he’s knows it’s not for the woman in front of him is yelling in Greek, Spiro doesn’t want to know. He closes his eyes. 

“I gave you two days to cry, now you recover.” Lugaretzia tells him as she wrestles him into wakefulness and upright from the Durrell’s kitchen table over which he had passed out. ‘You stink, go wash and sleep.’

Spiro wants to hug her and hate her for simply caring but she’s right, he stinks. He washes in Louisa’s bathroom, rolls himself in the sheets that smell of his departed lovers perfume and falls asleep. 

Lugaretzia is back the next morning. He’s eating bread on the chair outside, looking out to sea and silently hands her a piece, pours her coffee. A toast to her sorrow and his.

‘The weather doesn’t know there’s a war.’ Lugaretzia observes as she sits down in the shade. Sipping her coffee she announces, ‘My husband died in the Great War, two years after I saw him last.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Spiro genuinely is sad for her, he hadn’t really thought of her husband until now.

Lugaretzia glares instead as if he hasn’t said a word,‘ Don’t underestimate how hard it is for a widow to love again, I never could. I know you miss her,’ she says firmly, 'but you promised her a future.’

She rises quietly to continue her cleaning as he scrubs away the tears that fall down his face. Lugaretzia watches from the kitchen window thinking how young he looks, then she picks up his cap and his car keys, ‘You both have responsibilities but hers are growing up. Now you go to work to pay for her ticket back here as soon as it’s safe and in the meantime, write to her. It will bring you both comfort.’

Spiro nods, gets into his taxi and works. His fares are generous that day and everyone respectfully subdued, aware of his fragile heart. He is hugged, some pause for a moment and others speak kindly of his adoptive, departed family and without question, they know how much he loves Louisa. In this he finds comfort.

When Spiro returns in the late evening he finds a hot stew on the stove and a spotless house. Inside is a lone cat, presumably looking for Gerry. It seems any lap will do for it settles with Spiro. On the table is the sheet of paper and pen, surely left by Lugaretzia so he starts to write for the want of nothing to do and nobody to talk to. He raises a smile once or twice. He shows the envelope to Lugaretzia who rolls her eyes but he doesn’t miss her gentle smile. Spiro posts it on his first taxi round.

He writes about the house, of the cat, tactfully of his children, Larry’s lost shoe that he’s found and how much he loves and misses her. How at night, he sleeps in her bed.

And this is how his days merge into a new life. Lugaretzia arrives in the morning, sometimes brings a grandchild to keep her company as she bustles around the house. They share coffee and he goes to work, saving every penny for the poverty he knows will come thanks to war. He keeps a clean house but it occurs to him that this is Lugaretzia's way of coping as the island they call home changes forever. 

He misses her on two days she’s not there, but around them forms a network of good friends who knew Louisa well. Florence, Theo or Alex drop in. Larry comes home, world weary but it’s good to have a Durrell in the home again and they are all cheered by his presence and benefit from the protection of him and his associates as the conflict shapes their lives. They grow and preserve produce in the garden, store food tins in numerous hidden places, keep chickens and chop wood for fires.

Each week Spiro writes to Louisa. Each week he reads her reply. The violent German invasion means there is a ban on all correspondence so there is no chance of any letters but he writes anyway and stuffs them under the floorboards with the food tins. He tells her when Florence and Alex move in, that Sven stays on the top floor sometimes, his fluent Italian and German linguistics save him but Spiro sees his fear and there’s room to spare. He explains to her that he has hidden the taxi as he doesn’t want to work for the German army. Instead he drives ambulances for the makeshift field hospital where he watches over his fellow islanders and does all he can to help the doctors.His estranged wife brings the children to see him before they leave for Athens, thinking it safer. Larry expressed concern and finds them a safe passage and place to stay.

Spiro misses Louisa desperately, his room, or their room as he now thinks of it, is adorned with her photos. He’s managing the tiresome poverty that only a war can inflict on the bystanders, his riches are the memory she has left him in her words and actions, which are brighter than any conflict.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her return feels more certain and it gives her something to cling to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have scant notes on how far The Red Cross got, I know they were largely responsible for emergency food supplies on the islands and mainland. I didn't want to write about her mourning him but that she would find a way to get back and nursing was a huge part of the war effort. In reading about the resistance and loss of life on the mainland, I am awestruck by Larry's espionage.

The determination of Spiro’s promises makes his letters come to life for Louisa. Over the years he sends sporadic telegrams and letters as mail allows. What she thought might feel past becomes a tangible future. Her return feels more certain and it gives her something to cling to. It is as if he is with her and his photos become alive. The months pass easier knowing where he is.

Louisa squirrels away money in a tin, ready to buy a ticket. She finds work with the Red Cross. The years of patching up children, mostly Leslie, are useful. She realises, as she tells Spiro in a letter, that many women are missing husbands and that they are not alone in being brokenhearted. 

As the world enters an uneasy truce in early 1945 there is the chance of limited safe passage, Louisa finds herself pitched across the sea on a decrepit boat and sped by train down rails. They’ve all seen their golden days whistle by. On the way she’s acquired Larry and a mystery associate with a pistol who have given her the papers to support her medical uniform, impractical as it is with a too tight skirt and starch, it is a sign of peace. The aim is Corfu but it may as well be the moon for all she feels as another anonymous field flashes past the window. They feel like they’ve been travelling for years.

She’s grateful for her son’s company and his wisdom, but is too fitful to sleep. The train is still blacked out, there’s scant food and her rations are too precious to use. The carriage lurches her from side to side, each time she’s thrown from a dizzy dream of no Spiro to half awake thinking it’s true and she’s on a wild goose chase. There are papers to be checked. Her nerves are so tight that she questions her sanity but largely she’s ignored.

As they travel towards Athens, the weight of war visibly lifts from Larry’s shoulders. The city is chaotic and impoverished, crumbling buildings now blackened ruins, walls marked by bullets. She is alarmed by the harrowed faces of the Greek community and fears for Spiro’s wife who she understands fled here hoping for safety. They are driven to an office inside a shell soaked hotel. British and Allied men in suits greet Larry and break a smile over a hushed conversations that Louisa doesn’t want to hear. Their reward is a meal, rest and bath. Louisa is desperate for Corfu but grateful for food and to wash away the grime of the journey and change into a fresh uniform. She pins her hair up carefully. It’s grown long in the four years.

The ferry chugs along the coastline of Corfu. The vernacular has changed, the debris of war litters the landscape with gaping holes where landmarks have been razed to the ground. It is Corfu but not as she recognises it. The ferry had more Allied troops than civilians and this should have warned her what to expect. 

Larry takes her arm, ‘Don’t be worried, the Greeks are made of strong stuff, you of all people know that.’


	4. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louisa has carried this impossibly unidentifiable emotion inside her, it’s a longing that has at times threatened to drown her if she hadn’t kept it in check with a construction made from memories of his love and steely determination. It’s the grit that she saw in the spirits of wives and sweethearts on her travels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this was a really pain to write, trying to get a balance between aftermath of war and fluffy reunion. One more chapter to go!

Larry’s contact has taken care of their arrival and he has warned her that Spiro won’t be on the harbour but she looks for the taxi anyway. She doubted that she would have told him she was travelling anyway. The journey felt too overwhelming in her mind, even if Larry had said it would be fine. Louisa would have hated to get Spiro’s hopes raised. There was, and still is, every chance she’ll be posted in Corfu town in a few days. Not that she minds in the least, it’s the same island, no more oceans, just the one that surrounds them.

She tries to breath through that damm sickly feeling of fear. There are a few looks, brief glimpses of recognition that are confused by her appearance. Larry and his contact help her onto an open back truck strewn with holes which she knows are made by bullets to take them along roads they recognise. Spiro’s car was the only vehicle on the island when they left, not that she can see any civilian cars, just a few rusting army vehicles.

‘Are we chasing ghosts?’ Louisa wonders as they leave the harbour, watching their boat crew unload crates of grain to a waiting party.

‘Isn’t most of Europe?’ Larry inhales his cigarette, ‘Cheer up, here’s your stop. Do you want me to wait?’

‘No, you don’t have to, I’m sure you have other things to do.’ She smiles, conscious that neither of them are entirely here for fun.

‘I’ll be in the first bar I see after I’ve debriefed, the trunks will arrive here later.’ Larry gives his mother a hug and then considers her, ‘If I had someone who loved me as much as Spiro loves you, I’d be running inside. Don’t be nervous, he hadn’t changed a bit when I saw him last month.’ 

Louisa has carried this impossibly unidentifiable emotion inside her, it’s a longing that has at times threatened to drown her if she hadn’t kept it in check with a construction made from memories of his love and steely determination. It’s the grit that she saw in the spirits of wives and sweethearts on her travels. Yet her nerves have failed her. She walks up slowly towards her old home. The path is overgrown though there are trampled tyre tracks. She knows from Larry that they closed and covered the gates with ivy, taking advantage of the complicated route to the house from the coastal track to avoid soldiers occupying it. She revels in the sound of crickets and turns the corner to see the taxi right where he used to park it. She immediately sees his head bend down, rag in hand, polishing one of the huge wheel arches. She’s struck by how this scene is familiar and homely, bring a sense of joy that she lost all those years ago.

Spiro raises his head at the sob that tears from her soul. His face is one of astonishment and shock, if he has seen a vision. She supposes he has. He meets her in two strides, rag flung aside, catching her as he did on the beach in 1939, spinning her in his arms, telling her how he loves her now as then, his lips meeting hers. When they finally break apart, neither can stop talking. His beard which only seems to make him younger, her long hair and it’s so glorious. 

‘Louisa’ he nudges her nose with his and she feels his tears on their faces. Louisa cries with him, overwhelmed with tiredness. The relief of not being without him anymore comes to the surface. 

She is claimed by Lugaretzia who is stunned by the visitor and runs to get Sven and Florence. There is much talking, hugging and she is enthralled to see them, thankful they are safe and living in her old home. She explains a little of the nursing. Spiro tells her of his children, who are returned to Corfu and Florence quietly lets her know that Dimitra has a new man with the unsaid message that Spiro did not reunited with his former wife. 

She is sitting as close as humanely possible to Spiro. He is a distraction and it’s only worse when he admits in a low whisper, ‘I like your uniform, may I request a full examination later?’

‘Ssssh!’ She kisses him, not caring at all and Sven smiles at their happiness. 

‘I’m going to meet my husband and tell him the news. Let’s see if we can find Larry and Theo. You can come with me.’ Florence rises to her feet with a knowing look and nudges Sven from his chair, ‘Lugaretzia, shall we walk you home? It's a lovely evening for it.’

They watch their house-guests leave, heading to town. Louisa turns to Spiro with a smile, ‘Heaven?’

Spiro laughs and shoots her a look which all but reduces her to a puddle of longing, ‘I haven’t forgotten the way.’

They make it to the kitchen, she’s barely acknowledged her surroundings before she’s hungrily seeking out his mouth, her hands capturing his face. He breaks the kiss, and then, in tone laden with sin he tells Louisa, ’What I want to do with you, will break this table.’

She laughs, letting him lead her up the stairs, ‘I don’t fancy your chances explaining that to Lugaretzia!’

As they walk up, she slows her pace, as desperate as she is to be with Spiro, there are memories here. He senses this, ‘Missing the children?’

‘Missing what we had here, before.’ Louisa gives herself a shake. ‘I’m sorry, you have had to endure this day after day. I tried not to think about this place too much.’

With a kiss to her hands, he takes her along to her room, ‘I slept here, I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t miss you so much, with your things around.’

She exclaims at the dresses in the wardrobe which she left behind unable to face wearing them when they held so many memories of Corfu. Emotionally, she runs her fingers over the photos of them and her family, ‘Oh Spiro!’

Louisa removes the uniform with care, hanging it up as she goes. She’s conscious of Spiro’s eyes on her, his gentle sigh as each garment is removed, his restlessness as she takes her time. He cannot sit still any longer. She feels the strength beneath his shoulders as she balances against him, his hands rolling down her stockings, the press of his lips to her belly, his breath bring her back to life.

Rising up, he turns her around and removes every pin from her hair, eyes on fire as her curls tumble down her back. ‘You look the same, but different.’

She laughs and cups his bearded jaw in her hands, thrilled to be naked in his arms, ‘And this?’

‘It goes when I can find some razors’ Spiros grumbles, ‘no supplies from the mainland for weeks, I look like…’

‘A Greek god!’ She laughs with him. 

With a sigh of happiness, she watches him undress, unable to resist studying his back and arms. He’s suffered from lack of food, his face drawn from this, and the exhaustion of war, but his body is still strong. There’s a fading scar on his left shoulder blade, she wants to ask why but he stands up. She knows that it’s a conversation for later but settles for running a hand over it. He kisses her softly, ‘It’s okay.’

Her hands trace a line down his chest, the span of his shoulders to the cut of his hips and along the tangle of hair below his navel. His breath catches as she runs her hands lower. With a low growl, he lifts her easily into his arms. 

They make love tenderly until the darkness falls. It has nothing of the urgency that both of them thought it would. Spiro says it’s because they have all the time in the world. Time to explore and, as he teases her, time to lie here for all of the days and nights. 

When she wakes later, she can hear the muffled return of their friends and Spiro’s soft laughter. The door clicks open and he’s carrying wine which she later finds is a gift from her eldest son and a plate of food. He pauses, looks at her in disbelief, ‘I can’t believe you’re still here.’

‘Me neither, I have to pinch myself.’ 

From the window of their room, she can almost make out the skeletons of abandoned buildings. She is thankful it is only her and Larry who will see this. Her other children would be heartbroken to see Corfu so broken.

‘It will get better,’ Spiro says softly, coming up behind her, moving her hair to kiss her neck. He points down toward the direction of the harbour where a ship is coming in,’We are already rebuilding.’ 

He explains that the government are giving some land and property to islanders for a small fee to encourage rebuilding and he now owns this old villa. ‘I mean our home, I did this with you in mind, I hope...’

‘... Oh Spiro! I’ve never owned anything apart from four peculiar children and a dog.’ She bites her lip, ‘I really must stop bloody crying, of course it’s okay. Everything is okay.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's suitably fluffy after the grim bits before! Thanks so much for the kudos and comments, it's lovely you have taken time to do that :)

Epilogue 

Corfu echoes to the beat of hammers and saws that summer. Bombed buildings are restored or reborn as new homes. Crops grow and supplies start to arrive from the mainland. 

It’s not a perfect life. Louisa learns that it’s bombing that caused Spiro's scar and it’s the same incident that means Doctor Petridis is often in pain. They all mourn the loss of friends who fled never to return or died at the hands of those who invaded. The island is washed by sadness. Around them is political turmoil as a civil war threatens the mainland. The church is skeptical about dissolving Spiro’s first marriage despite getting legal permission.

They keep busy instead. Spiro has been in demand as a taxi service and carpenter. He claims to have found this talent building Gerry’s zoo. Louisa comes with him, he is rarely seen in the taxi without her beside him. She whitewashes walls, taking in sewing and digs gardens. 

In the evenings, they swim in the sea, taking delight in their new adventure. Their house guests return to their repaired homes and they spend a week enjoying the space to themselves. Eventually they move into the attic rooms and take in hardy tourists on European tours. Theo travels to London to visit Gerry and returns with Margo in tow and Spiro’s sons are besotted by this new, chaotic family. They are easy children to love.

****

‘You are getting muscles.’ Spiro observes, running his hands down her arms, ‘you’ll be like me.’

The building work has made him strong, brown and ridiculously gorgeous. She sits astride him now, gazing down with a soft smile, ‘What did I do to deserve you?’ 

‘Bad things.’ He teases, his hands resting on her hips, ‘very wicked things.’

’Nobody can be like you.’ She meets his eyes which gleam up at her like polished coals, cupping his now beardless face with her hands. ‘You are...’

‘…Handsome?’ He suggests kissing her palms.

‘Presumptuous!’ Louisa ruffles his hair and, just to torment him, rolls her hips with a cheeky wink.

‘Yours!’ He groans and spends the afternoon proving how much he belongs to her.

***

Now, on a sunny Autumn day the villa is full of life. It is nine years today since she first met Spiro.

‘Argue or something.’ Louisa looks down at her children who are gathered at the foot of the stairs pulling faces like fishes at her. It’s most strange to see them standing there with them all so adult. Margo elbows Leslie for standing on her foot thus resuming normal service. Larry hushes them and takes his mother’s arm. 

For all of her life, she’ll never forget seeing Spiro in his best suit and his face when he sees her dress, conjured up from silk and linens by dressmakers in the town. He breaks with tradition by striding down the aisle to meet her, kissing her hands with a reverence she finds emotive and so like him. The whole event is very untraditional, starting with the priest who has let this blessing take place. It has taken most of five years to get permission.

The wedding procession is lead back to the villa. Someone, she thinks Florence, has decorated the taxi with ribbons and cans which clatter and bounce along the road. At the party, fireflies sparkle and the garden hums with happiness. Spiro carries Louisa through the door to great cheering. Larry makes a glorious speech that lurches from broken Greek to English about love conquering all, Margo tells them how she always knew war wouldn’t divide her family. Gerry breaks hearts by telling everyone that his late father would be proud to know Spiro is bringing up his family. The punch made by Leslie may have enhanced emotions. Everyone cries and the pelicans squark much to Theo’s delight.

Spiro invites her for a drive after he’s danced her around the garden. She can’t help but look coy and ask what sort of drive he means. Excursions with Spiro tend to end up with her being kissed senseless when they ought to be enjoying a view or a play. She blushes when she sits occasionally sits in the back seat of the taxi, thinking about the times Spiro has laid her down there. He is, she sighs happily, a very creative lover and now he is hers, her husband.

She finds out that he means to take her to ‘their view’. He helps her to collect her dress from around her. It has far too many skirts to be practical for the car. ‘It’s like a wedding cake!’ 

‘You are a princess,’ Spiro swings her into his arms and carries her bridal style to the weather-worn log, laughing at her shriek of delight, 'My wife!'

Together they watch the sunset on this most perfect day. When the last of the fierce sun rays sinks into the sea, Spiro drives them home to their family and other animals.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small update, and that really is the last bit of this story!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my own family, I have my grandparents love letters during the war too.

The young boy looks at the box and hands it to his mother who puts down the torch she’s been waving through the gap under the floorboards.

‘I told you I saw them!’ The child stands, hands on his hips. There’s something of his grandfather and father about him in his stance, dark eyes flashing. His mother ruffles his hair and they leave the villa to the builders who have been impatiently waiting to decorate this room that will be her son’s bedroom.

The woman sits with her husband on the terrace outside and they open the tin carefully. Her husband looks up, tears in his eyes, ‘My father’s love letters to my mother.’

His wife opens one carefully, they are fragile and she’s afraid they will turn to dust. She intends to skim through but the broken English, decorated with Greek words, she knows to mean love, are mesmerising, ‘These are beautiful.’

‘They had to part before the war. My father was married before, my step brothers are from his first marriage. He met my mother and her children here. He loved her from the first minute they met.’ Her husband remembers, ‘she went back to England because of the right wing invasion. They would have been killed and Spiro, my father, stayed here. He lived here in the house with his friends - you know, Theo and Sven. These must be the letters he wrote and couldn't send.’

His wife reads; ‘They went through so much, listen to this - my darling Louisa, I dreamt about you last night, I hear from Larry that you want to come back but you must wait until he says it is safe. You are so close to being home, a few weeks will stop me worrying, my love - he must have written every day.’

‘They were apart for four years. Then they were married not long after she came back, it was very unusual at the time to be divorced and I think they had a party here. I was at the wedding, mum didn’t know she was pregnant at the time. I wasn't planned at all but it was the best childhood. Mum and Dad really do love each other’

‘You can tell!’ His wife looks over her glasses, ‘Shall we take them with us? I’m sure your parents would love to see them.’

Her husband nods, gathers up their son who has been listening carefully and they troop down towards town to visit Spiro and Louisa.


End file.
